East meets West ...

Hellooooo ....

I got into Seattle late last night. I was due to arrive Monday night after leaving the conference hotel in Harrisburg, PA that afternoon. I got up to Newark and had a three hour layover before a schedule 6 p.m. departure to the west coast. I camped out at the Brooklyn Brewery Jazz Bar and caught up on some e-mails while looking out on the skyline of NYC. As a sipped a Brooklyn Lager -- I was assured by the proprietor that it kicked Sam Adam's ass -- I became a bit nostalgic for previous visits to the city and made plans with Alison to head up there for New Year's. As I wrapped up our conversation together and made my way to the gate, I heard that the flight to Seattle was overbooked and that Continental was looking for volunteers to leave Tuesday. A hotel voucher, meal vouchers and $500 in credit later, I was postponing my plans.

I got in touch with Andrew and Sara (recently married in Hawaii in August) and was invited to join them and Sara's mother for dinner at Andrew and Sara's apartment in Mid-town. I was going back, back to New York! I hopped on the air train to the NJ transit station and took a 30 minute ride to Penn Station and Madison Square Garden. I made my way over to their apartment and enjoyed a dinner of potatoes and carrots -- they hadn't necessarily planned a vegetarian entrée and looked at me a little disparagingly when I explained my unique dining proclivities.

We talked and looked at a photo book of Andrew and Sara's trip to Egypt, Greece, and Turkey before I said my goodbyes and left with Andrew to watch the second half of the Monday Night Football game at a Irish bar. I stayed until the end of the game and weathered a monsoon of sorts outside. By the time Favre had blown another game, the rain had stopped and I walked the 10 blocks or so back to the train station. Much to my dismay, the trains were being held about 45 minutes to allow for the traffic leaving the Jets Stadium to clear. Pulling out of NYC at 1:40 a.m, I got back to the airport around 2:15 a.m. and waited 40 minutes for my Ramada Plaza Conference Center and Hotel shuttle that never came. Instead, I paid the Hampton Inn shuttle driver $5 to take me to my prescribed hotel. I got in after 3 a.m. and, despite puzzling over a door latch that had been ripped off, I finally went to sleep.

Tuesday, I got up and made my way back the Newark Liberty Airport. Arriving four and half hours before my flight left me plenty of time to study for the LSAT. I grabbed a green tea from a partnering coffee shop and settled in at the Heineken Lounge. Brain exhausted, it was time to cash in my meal vouchers. Pooling together the lunch and dinner coupons left me with the small fortune of $20 for dinner. Mexican it was and I wolfed down a very palatable California shrimp roll dinner.

Barely stopping to catch my breath I raced over to my gate to check on my flight. Delayed and over booked! I briefly pondered the opportunity to collect another $500 voucher and possibly of cancelling my transcontinental trip altogether. Yet, I had a date with destiny on the west coast and I was determined to get out there. Technical issues conquered, the flight was ready to be boarded.

Being sequestered to window seat in a three person row, I allowed myself to dry out and nervously hoped that I wouldn't have to get up to go pee during the six hour flight. I looked out the window and snapped a few photos of an orange, yellow, purple October sky before briefly nodding off, as the plane departed, reading a long winded article in The Economist about Zimbabwe's political troubles.

In the air, I passed the time crossing and re-crossing my legs, earnestly erasing mistakes as a worked through my LSAT prep book, and trying not to elbow the guy next to me . Luckily, I had a pair ear plugs because there were two kids in front of me who were playing some sort of personal gaming device and encouraging each other with incessant chats of "You can do it, you can do it, you can do it". While I generally support the spirit of teamwork, I gave serious consideration to whether or not I was the type of guy to stand up and tell a kid on a plane to, "Please, shut the hell up." Eventually, I realized I wasn't

Landing in Seattle, Angie, who I had met at Andrew and Sara's wedding in August, picked me up. We talked about her husband, Tom, and life in Seattle as we made our way to their beautiful home just north of the city.

I woke up this morning and Angie dropped me off at Enterprise. I picked up the rental as the agent looked at me dubiously as a sputtered assurances that I had car insurance and he spied the book Angie had given me -- "Seattle's Best Dive Bars." Possibly despite his better judgement, he tossed me the keys and I raced out of the parking lot. On the way into the city, I stopped off at an area called Green Lake to pen some thoughts and go for a run around the three-mile lake.

I've got a recommendation for a coffee shop to sit down and drudge through some more studying before checking out a Picasso exhibit that just opened at the Seattle Museum of Art. It's only touring three cities stateside and figured it'd be worth the time. I'm meeting up with Tom, presumably at one of the previously mentioned "Dive Bars" later this afternoon and hoping to cap off the evening with a twilight tour of the Space Needle. Tomorrow, I've got a hot date with the University of Washington Law School and Criminal Procedure class.

After a year living on an island 19 miles by two miles, life of the road has its perks. Hope all is well and check Facebook to see when this road show will be pulling into a town near you.

Best,

Steve

Vietnam Part II

Please pardon the lapse in time since my last post, the idea of encapsulating my second semester and last six months in American Samoa seemed like an incalculable task and one that I'm postponing until my summer travels have concluded.

In the mean time, our traveler picks up in the mountainous north west region of Vietnam. Alison and I have been traveling together for nearly a month -- two weeks in China working the for Global Young Leaders Conference and another week plus exploring Vietnam.

We arrived in Sapa this morning after taking an eight-hour overnight sleeper train from Hanoi.

The idea of a sleeper car was exciting and new and prompted the exclamation, "This is so Darjeeling Limited of us." Safely tucked into our cubby-esque bunks, like a sweatshirt tucked into it's assigned space in the kindergarten classroom, we retired for the night.

Upon arrival in Lai Cao, we took the hour and twenty minute bus ride from the rail station to the village. The pleasure of enduring such an adventure at 5:30 a.m. was only heightened by riding in the middle of the back row of the bus -- thus limiting the ability for any sort of neck support and comfort for a weary head.

Upon arriving in town, we were amazed to see the town buzzing with local villagers all before 7 a.m.

This picture does a poor job of illustrating the town's early morning hub bub, but a great job of illustrating that waiting until after noon to start drinking might by a uniquely Western social construct.

Showing up without a hotel reservation, finding accommodations for the night was the first order of business. Once this was accomplished, we realized that there were two hours to kill before check-in and set out to find breakfast.

Per our Lonely Planet's recommendations, we found Baguette and Chocolate, a French bakery, that was just opening for business. We were the first to arrive, but the establishment would soon fill up as the other sleepy train travelers settled in for a cup of joe. Breakfast accomplished in a conceivably European fashion - croissant w/ honey, toasted baguette with butter & jam, yogurt and coffee -- we explored the town's central square and tried to avoid the overbearing local villagers pushing their wares.

A typical interaction began with a series of questions not limited to, "Where are you from? What is your name? How old are you? How long are you staying in Sapa?" Before concluding with a pushy, "Would you like to by my cultural trinket?"

For those of you who find this charming, we did too ... for the first three or four times it happened. However, after hearing this exchange rinse and repeated a dozen times and being followed down many a side street, some of the luster and charm of cultural exchange wore off. Nonetheless, our ramblings did yield a number of fruitful returns.

Luckily, it was soon time to check-in to our hotel, which for $25/night afforded us a wonderful view and a balcony overlooking a lush green valley of farmland. Content to relax after an early morning start, we continued to explore the town for a bit before settling down on a outdoor deck for cup of coffee and the intention of completing Updike's Rabbit Run trilogy.

Thus accomplished, a night of balcony sitting and wine sipping awaits.

Travels in the Far East and Happy New Years

It’s been nearly 10 hours and my legs are starting to get weak. I got the Narita International Airport in Tokyo this morning at 7:30 a.m. and still have another three hours before my flight leaves for Honolulu later tonight. Such a stint in an airport isn’t typically something that one looks forward to, but this wasn’t what one would consider a typical trip -- access to the business lounge with free snacks and adult beverages doesn’t hurt either (however, my sister likes to remind me that I paid costly for these amenities).

I left American Samoa just over two weeks ago and our Christmas break couldn’t come fast enough. In the days leading up to the holiday vacation, I was losing sleep contemplating adventures and the access to the consumer driven culture of mainland America (Note: Few would consider Hawaii mainland United States, but I invite those few to spend six months living in American Samoa).

Upon landing in Honolulu, I roused my dreary sister for the 5:30 a.m. pick up. My girlfriend my roommate and I went back to my sister’s apartment and passed out for a few hours before gleefully embarking for a fine dining establishment called the Yard House, which claimed to have over 200 beers on draft.

After having a paltry selection of four beers to choose from in American Samoa and not a single bar with beers on draft, arriving at the Yard House seemed like an outer body experience in the making. When the hostess showed us to our table, it was as if St. Peter had beckoned us through the threshold of the Pearly Gates. For hours, the three of us drank beers of impossibly dark complexion and distinct aromas. Nachos were placed in front of us and quickly consumed.

Alison had made the woeful choice to return to Boston for the duration of winter break, while Alex and I continued to explore the full range of palatable malted concoctions. We eventually retired to a bookstore and were taken aback by the familiar, yet forgotten aroma of new books.

My mom arrived later in the evening and we spent the duration of my four days in Hawaii shopping, eating and exploring a contemporary art museum with a fantastic cafeteria.

Eventually, I departed for the Steve Atwell Asia tour 2009. Taking to the Silk Road for the first time, there would be some minor hiccups in store. I left on a Tuesday morning and passed over the International Dateline to arrive in Tokyo nine hours later around dusk on a Wednesday. The airport was immaculate, modern and nearly empty. I saw a few travelers milling about a cafeteria area and it reminded of the sterile, mechanized world of the SIMs video game series. I scuttled to my gate and marveled at how expensive everything was while contemplating a variety of culinary options including a bag of “Nuts & Fish.” I opted for a nut cocktail.

I boarded my flight to Saigon, arrived six and half hours later, spent 55 minutes being ping ponged about by the Vietnamese immigration authority, and was finally escorted back to a flight to Japan to secure the visa I needed in order to enter the country. Dismayed doesn’t accurately describe my emotions, especially when fate dealt me the cruel hand of seating me back in seat 38G – the seat I had just spent over six hours in for the flight from Tokyo to Vietnam.

Arriving back in Tokyo and with some extra time on my hand, I was met and helped immensely by an airline representative who passed me through security and offered directions on how to find the Vietnamese Embassy. With only a few snags and 80 USD this process went relatively smoothly. I stopped at a restaurant to use the internet, drink a glass of red wine and point to the Moroccan style chicken BBQ on the menu. I drank the wine with pleasure and could only smile when the vegetable cuscus was placed in front of me, instead.

A hotel room for the night and twelve hours of sleep later, I was back on my feet and destined to explore the foreign underworld of the Tokyo metro system. Heralded as one of the most efficient and confusing in the world, I figured this would be a good opportunity to put my travel skills to the test. Deciphering the metro map in a mix of Japanese and English, I felt like a NSA code cracker when I put in the correct number of Yen and out popped a ticket.

I spent the morning shivering through the streets of the Akasaka district and exploring the Buddhist Senjoi Temple. As I plodded back through the crowds and onto the metro, I could only stare in amazement at the punctuality of the trains and how quiet the passengers were. Not a cough or hushed whisper escaped the lips of an entire metro car full of people.

Back on the go, I made my way to the airport and on to Vietnam – this time with the appropriate paperwork. I met up with my friend Liz, who is teaching English in Vietnam, and we were up to 2 a.m. catching up on life on the far reaches of the globe.

This reintegration process didn’t help when she had to be up at 6:30 a.m. for class and I prepared to play in a Frisbee tournament. I visited her school and watched her instruct her class on lessons in possession and plural and singular tense. I enjoyed the lesson, but was eager to find the playing fields for a much anticipated weekend of ultimate Frisbee.

In the end, our team did well – eventually losing in the finals – and I played well enough to receive honorable mention from some of the spectators who stuck around long enough on Sunday to finish the cases of beer provided by the tournament and see the game.

Liz was off Monday and she played tour guide as we ran around Ho Chi Minh City from one fine dining establishment to another as I slowly became reacculturated to the multitude of dining options available in a city. We visited Reunification Hall – formerly the government headquarters of the South Vietnamese government, but overrun by the North during the Vietnam War (called the American War by the present communist government).

The next day, we flew to Cambodia to explore Angkor Wat and spend New Years in what we anticipated would be the sleepy town of Siem Reap. Visa troubles were kept at bay when we quickly and easily picked up a Cambodian visa upon arrival at the airport and passed through to my third country in less than a week.

Hotel accommodations were initially tough to secure, but we found a suitable place for one night – despite not having air conditioning and having to get up in the middle of the night to drag a fan into the room from the hall. The next night we moved to the much nicer and elaborately decorated Bopha Angkor Hotel, which featured a swimming pool tucked in a secret garden area.

The next morning we were at Angkor Wat, a World Heritage Site and the largest religious monument in the world, to see the sun come up as the calendar closed on 2009. We spent the next seven hours trudging around ruble and temple steps constructed between 1100 and 1300 A.D. Feeling we had adequately fulfilled our respective roles as Lara Croft and Indiana Jones, we retired back to Siem Reap to rest before New Years Eve night.

That night, we met up with one of my teammates from the Frisbee Tournament, who happened to be in Siem Reap with his wife. We enjoyed dinner and a traditional dancing show before taking the streets for some traditional American Style dancing. We drank and partied with thousands of other people – quickly dispelling the notion of a sleepy Cambodian village – until the DJ led us in a countdown chant.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1CryHzxvIk

We rang in the new year as the DJ blasted the Black Eyed Peas “ I Gotta Feeling” and the crowd collectively altered the words and shouted “It’s gonna be a good, good year.” Fireworks lit up the sky and beer poured from the every direction.

The next morning, I welcomed 2010 and my 26^th birthday with a massive hangover. This was amended with a healthy dose of Advil and a hearty Mexican lunch. Liz and I spent our final afternoon in Cambodia shopping for gifts to send home and surveying the empty streets – amazed that so many people had been there the night before.

We made our way back to Vietnam and enjoyed take out on Liz’s roof where we shared words of encouragement for the upcoming year and parted ways.

A few more hours and I leave for Honolulu where I will meet my sister, my roommate, my girlfriend and enjoy one more night in Waikiki before picking up the torch and continuing my teaching career in 2010.

“It’s gonna be a good, good year.”

All the best - Steve